By Jonathan Spicer
At King and Bay Streets, spray paint wasn’t the only stain left behind by marching protesters.
Ken Wood, an activist marching near the rear of the demonstration, found himself suddenly cut off from the chanting crowd.
The black line of riot police intercepted him, and grounded him with shields.
Six officers with black helmets; one protester with a black fisherman’s hat.
Police beat the man in the faded green army jacket even after he collapsed on the wet asphalt.
Other protesters ran back and tried to burst through the fortress of police around the crumpled man. “Let him go!” they screamed, voices failing. “He needs an ambulance! Turn around and look at him!”
The man lay, unmoving and face down, for five minutes with an officer standing over him. Protesters screamed; photographers took pictures; pedestrians crossed when the light was green.
Eventually, Wood sat up and looked at his blood-soaked hands. Four protesters – two with red-cross arm bands – were finally allowed to help him over to rest against the glass TD Bank building. His balding head was split open and bleeding. His jacket was stained, matching the poppy pinned on his breast.
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